


Johnny Darling

by jackelope



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackelope/pseuds/jackelope
Summary: Nothing you'd miss, but it means the world to me.
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/Johnny Silverhand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Johnny Darling

**Author's Note:**

> ok so here is how the thought process for this fic went:  
> 1\. some of Kerry's in-game dialogue reminded me of the song _Jenny_ by the Studio Killers  
> 2\. realized 'Johnny' fits perfectly as a replacement for 'Jenny'  
> 3\. ???  
> 4\. Fanfiction
> 
> So yeah uuhhhh the _Jenny_ inspiration is pretty clear here, short and angsty, written at like 3 am, it is what it is

"Hey, anyone seen that shirt I was wearin' at the last concert?"

Kerry freezes, like a little rabbit cowering in a field and hoping the dog just won't see it if it holds still enough. Johnny sees him anyway, giving a curt glance around as he waits for someone to answer him.

"I dunno, man." Kerry mumbles, pretending like he really doesn't know. Thankfully, Johnny gets distracted by Denny asking him what it looks like, and in a moment they're in a row about how all Johnny's shirts look the same and how can he even tell one black tank top from another, etcetera. Kerry sighs and takes his opportunity to slip away.

It's a 50/50 whether or not Johnny actually knows where his shirt is already. If he does, he won't ask about it again.

Kerry goes back to his shithole apartment in shame, scared little bunny running for his burrow to curl up til the morning. Johnny's missing tank top is pulled over the stained pillow - the source of all his shame, and yet in this sea of garbage it feels like a beautiful island, a beacon of hope calling him over to rest his head there. The material is none too soft, not like a real pillowcase would be, but it still smells like Johnny. In another day or so that scent will be gone and it'll just reek of Kerry's greasy hair, but for now it's like inhaling pure joy.

It's a high all its own, but it still fades like any other. The sweat-stained pillow doesn't feel like Johnny - it's soft and cool and lifeless, a poor simulacrum of cradling his head against the other man's body. Kerry holds it close anyway, pulling his arms underneath his pillow and clinging to it as pathetically as he wants to cling to Johnny. He's not tired and he knows he can't sleep, but he sits there in bed for what feels like forever. Tears start to come from his eyes - he wishes they wouldn't, but it's not the first time and it won't be the last. Be nice if he could just fall asleep one of these days, but putting Johnny's shirt on his pillow probably hasn't helped.

Maybe he just likes to suffer. Is it worth it to lie here letting the tears pour down his face for a few seconds of bliss when he comes home to a pillow that still smells like Johnny? He knows the answer is no, but he can't help himself. Like chasing any high, he always needs one more hit.

The moon is full and bright in the sky, the only thing visible over Night City and just about the only thing visible from the narrow window with holes in the blinds that hangs suspended on the far wall. One little outlet to the outside world, and one more than he wants. He's stayed up all night before, watched the moon glide across the sky until the sun started to rake at the horizon and he realized it was finally dawn. Nights like this he just can't sleep - he's lovesick, howls at the moon. Stays up all night writing songs no-one will ever hear. The melodies stick, but the words always come on too strong.

Johnny knows about some of it - knows Kerry takes some of his shit, at least. He doesn't know how much; Kerry tries to only klep what he won't worry about most of the time. By now there's probably more of Johnny's stuff in his apartment than his own. Johnny's impression seems to be that Kerry is just hot and bothered over him, but really, he wishes it was that simple.

If he heard the way Kerry crooned by himself in his lonely apartment, they'd never be able to look at each other the same way again. Johnny may be about as awful as friends come, but Kerry doesn't have many of 'em, and despite everything they've been through Kerry really doesn't want to lose that. A part of him wishes Johnny knew, wonders that if he could say in so many words how strong this feeling is that keeps him up late and leaves him crying into Johnny's shirt, that he could make Johnny understand, make him change his mind, give him a chance. But staring down that slim chance is worse than staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Hope won't keep the trigger from being pulled.

By morning, Kerry's taken the tank top off of his pillow. He's resolved to leave it somewhere Johnny will find it, maybe someplace he'll assume he just missed it earlier. He'll never know Kerry cried into it and maybe won't even suspect where it was.

And by the next night, the same shirt is back as Kerry's pillowcase.


End file.
